Women accounted for 14 of the 35 overdoses and men accounted for 21. The overdose victims in 2017 came from all walks of life. They included a decorated military veteran, a personal trainer, a cancer survivor, animal lovers, church members and lovers of their families.

The oldest overdose victim was 66, a man who died from an overdose of methamphetamine.

The youngest was Harley, who died at 22. Two other men overdosed at the age of 23, one from fentanyl and one from methamphetamine.

Cunningham said Harley had stopped using heroin after a multi-month stint in the Licking County Justice Center for theft, but he had turned to other drugs instead.

"He thought they were easier to quit than the heroin," she said. "I told him it wasn't any better."

On March 1, 2017, Harley used methamphetamine that was laced with fentanyl and carfentanil, opiates that are many times more powerful than heroin. Cunningham said she doesn't believe her son knew those drugs were mixed with the methamphetamine.

When Cunningham got news of her son's death from her older son, she said she was devastated but not surprised. She had begun preparing for her son's death after his first trip to a local detox facility, where Harley learned he had contracted Hepatitis C from sharing needles.

"One way or another, I was going to lose my son," she said. "I tried every kind of love out there, to the point I put my son on the street."

Harley tried multiple rehabilitation centers and even moved in with a relative in Florida to try and get away from the temptations of his addiction. Yet, the disease continued to win and Cunningham said she had to try tough love.

Harley would sleep in her vehicle while she was working third shift, but then stole money from her bank accounts. He ended up stealing his brother's rent, electronics from family members, anything to feed his habit.

"He would've given up food for the drugs," she said.

Those thefts resulted in several petty theft charges, which provided him with time in jail to work on being sober, but it never really stuck. Cunningham said one time while in jail, Harley spoke with Detective Todd Greene, who managed to get through to Harley.

"He told me he didn't want to use anymore, he knew he was going to die," she said.

In a letter Harley wrote his mother from jail about two years before he died, he told her he believed he could overcome his addiction with her help.

"Please don't give up on me because I haven't givin (sic) up on myself," he wrote. "I still have faith I no Ima (sic) pull through this."

Cunningham now has the letter framed and keeps it in her bedroom, with a wall of photos of her son. She also has a paperweight that includes a double-helix design using Harley's ashes.

And she has the memories, both good and bad.

Cunningham recalled a phone call she got from Harley two days before her birthday in October 2016. Harley had just been arrested and he was calling to tell her how happy he was about that, because he wasn't sure he would have lived through the next 48 hours.

"It didn't look like my son," she said of the man who was booked into the jail. "He was 5-feet-11-inches and weighed 130 pounds. I couldn't find jeans that fit in the length and the waist."

Within a month of being incarcerated, Harley had gained more than 30 pounds.

Those memories will never be enough to overcome the grief and guilt she feels about the last time she saw her son, though.

Two days before his death, Harley had called his mother and asked her to meet him at a motel in Heath.

"I knew he wanted money," she said. "I yelled at him, I told him he needed to turn himself in."

Harley had an outstanding warrant for theft at the time.

"I pulled away and didn't tell him I loved him," she said. "Chance could really give those sad puppy dog eyes. It's the last thing I have to remember my son by."

About 48 hours later, Cunningham learned her son had died at a house just a few blocks from her own. Within a day, she said Harley's friends had told her who had given him the drugs. Months later, the man responsible was formally charged with involuntary manslaughter and was eventually sentenced to five years in prison.

It's little comfort to Cunningham, knowing the man who sold her son the drugs he died from using is behind bars.

"He gets to come out in three years and hold his kids and mine's gone," she said. "I don't get to listen to his voice anymore."

Cunningham has a three-second voice recording of her son that she says she plays over and over on her worst days, but it isn't the same as having her son with her.

"I carry Narcan now because I don't want another mother to go through this," she said.

Three of Harley's friends have gotten sober as a result of his death, she said, which is something she can focus on as a positive to come from his passing.

"I told them they can call me if they feel like using," she said.

Cunningham said more options are needed for those who are addicted, so they can get the help they need and don't end up like her son and scores of other young men and women across the state.

The number of opiate related overdose deaths in Ohio continued to climb in 2017, with many counties seeing record numbers.

The Newark Fire Department has gone on 21 fewer overdose medical runs so far this year than at the same point in 2017.

Join the conversation

The Advocate is hosting a forum to discuss the addiction and opiate crisis on April 24. The forum will be held at 6:30 p.m. at Thirty One West in downtown Newark. Attendance is free but registration is requested and can be done online on The Advocate's Facebook page.

If you or someone you know is suffering from addiction and looking for help, you can call 211 for information about local options. The Newark Addiction Recovery Initiative is also available for anyone within Licking County. Go to the Newark Police Department, 39 S. Fourth St., for more information.